


Darkness and Light

by orphan_account



Category: Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Domestic Violence, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 03:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Reid enters the picture, Bernie knew things would never be the same...





	1. Chapter 1

He knew the moment he met him John Reid was bad news. Bernie Taupin had never felt such an aversion to a person he barely knew. He was charming, yes. He was intelligent. He was well-spoken. Some would even call him dashing. Reg was in such awe that a man like him actually wanted to be his it made Bernie’s heart melt. It was what he always wished for his best mate: to be loved properly. To have a man to come home to every night. To have date nights, and cuddles after making love, and everything  _ normal  _ men had with their lovers. Reg began to see that there was no real normal, and that it was actually was fine to be himself when he was with Reid. That their relationship, though behind closed doors as it was, was blessed by his best friend. So he put aside his dislike and endured his presence with a forced smile and heavy heart.

Reid was able to handle Reg at his best and his worst, and he made it known quite often just much better he was at it than Bernie. Bernie knew he should be thankful Reg had found someone to love him in the way Bernie could not. He should be thankful that Reid ensured he made it to the shows and other appearances on time so he didn’t have to fret about it. He should be thankful he did not receive the middle of the night calls because Reg needed help weaseling out of whatever crazy situation he found himself in. He should be thankful that because of Reid, Reg could be on the back burner of his life, there but not on front stage, so his new relationship was going brilliantly. Life was much easier without the added stress of keeping Reg alive. And it had to be worth it because surely he loved the bird, right?

But he missed him. He missed being Reg’s sounding board on his new projects. He missed being the one Reg went to first when things went south. He missed being the one he celebrated his accomplishments with. He missed being needed.

He collapsed beside Maxine on the sofa, a bottle of beer in his hand, and settled in for the nightly television ritual. He wrapped his arm around her and she cuddled in close.  _ I love her, _ he thought, kissing the top of her head.  _ She’s my soulmate. She is everything I wanted or needed. She’s brilliant. Who needs Reg when I have a wonderful girl to wake up to everyday?  _

_Oh who am I kidding? And I’m lying to myself, and to her, every day I stick around. _

Bernie took a long pull from his bottle. He was much too sober for his garbage thoughts.

******************

Elton shouldered his way through the crowd. The party was in full swing. John invited anyone who was connected with anyone they knew, it seemed. He had taken to carrying the large bottle of brandy with him, his anxiety reaching previous unknown heights. He was searching for a friendly face he could finally relax with, but kept coming up empty. He wondered how it was possible with hundreds of people in every area of his estate, he could not find a single person he was not overly bored with...

He ducked into an alcove when he saw John coming down the hallway. He was  _ not _ hiding, he told himself firmly, even as he held his breath until John had passed him. He was  _ not  _ wallowing, he told himself as well, as he took three consecutive pulls from the bottle. 

He was not looking forward to being found after seeing the look on John’s face. Perhaps he should not have disappeared from the meeting he was supposed to be having with the execs, after all.

He slid down the wall, knocking his head against it. His life was  _ shite. _ He was very successful. He was well-loved by his fans. He sold out massive arenas on a nightly basis. He could not walk down the street without making the front page of numerous publications.

And yet here he hid in the dark alcove, his mansion overfilled with strangers celebrating yet  _ another _ number one album, getting steadily hammered, _alone_.

He had sent Bernie an invitation. He had even called him when he never received a response. This was his night as well. Their creation was being celebrated, why should Elton party without him? Maxine told him under no certain terms was he to call again. Their partnership was now business only. Bernie would send him lyrics, and he would not communicate back. He was going to kill Bernie, she had said, with his corrupt lifestyle, and she would not have it.

He had contemplated showing up at the ranch out of spite, but decided against it. He did know for certain if they were her words, or Bernie's, and was quite happy to live in denial. She was right, of course. Elton was a loose cannon at the best of times. He had dragged Bernie down many a rabbit hole when he was fucked up, which was an hourly occurrence at this point. 

Elton chugged his drink. He and John deserved each other, truly. The pain, the laughter, the grief, the fucking, and the bruises they shared with each other were the signs of their affection.

But Bernie was good. He did not have the demons Elton fought daily. He did not deserve to be brought under because the overwhelming darkness that was Elton John, and even John Reid... He deserved a simple life, with no stress, and Elton was more than happy to try to give it to him, even if it meant losing himself in the process. 

He took another pull of his liquor before stumbling back into the hallway. He needed to find some powder before he passed out. He was much too sober to be so philosophical.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where are you off to, then?”

Bernie bit back a groan. He had hoped Maxine would be working on supper just a bit longer. Long enough to finish packing and slip , out unseen. Just as he had not planned on hopping on the red eye that night, he had not planned on how he was going to break the news just yet. He knew he should have waited until she went to work the following day... He hated confrontation with every ounce of his being, no matter how much she seemed to thrive on it.

He turned from his packing and sprawled himself on the king sized bed. _Stare at the ceiling, not her scrunched up face, Bernie. You can't give in to her demands. Not this time, when it could be life or death, _he thought. “I’m pretty sure if you think on it for a mom’, after the programme we watched earlier, you’d figure it out yourself, love…”

Bernie flinched as she screeched. God, he was so tired of her constant screeching and nagging he could scream himself hoarse. He was never drunk enough to deal with it. Bernie could not hold back the smirk, though, as she stamped her heeled boot on the carpet in a juvenile expression of rage. “You are so bloody predictable, Maxine. The world is not just you, no matter how you think differently. I don’t know why I’ve stayed so bloody long,” he said, getting back to his feet. Her childish antics gave him new strength. Even Reg was not as immature on his worst days. 

“If you leave here tonight, Bernie Taupin, don't even think about coming back! You hear me!”

Bernie shrugged, tossing his toothbrush in the case. “It’s my house, love, I’ll return whenever I wish. You, however, can feel free to be gone when I return. I do so miss the peace.” 

Bernie zipped his suitcase, ignoring her as the petty rant began. Bernie had taken to following Reg’s life through the media circus that seemed to tread so darkly on his heels. His cheerful persona had shifted towards apathy in one fell swoop; at least when he believed he was not being watched too closely. He had lost weight, seemed constantly intoxicated on the news, and more suspicious bruises that were not covered as well as he seemed to believe surfaced on his sallow skin each appearance. 

His almost lifeless eyes haunted Bernie every night.

He needed to do _ something _ ! Bernie had it so _ easy _ here at his ranch, while Reg barely hung on to survival. Whether he was accepted back in Reg’s life was another matter. He could no longer stay shut up in his ranch, watching his best mate’s downward spiral from across the world. He could no longer pretend that everything was just grand in his own life, either. He picked up his beer and squeezed past the still blustering Maxine, and got into the waiting cab. 

Reg was on the European leg of his latest tour. Bernie would have to bite back his pride and work together with Reid to help Reg through whatever was going on in his head. Even if Reid ended up being the problem himself like Bernie always assumed. 

He was afraid of what would happen if he couldn’t get through to him. That fear made it quite simple to leave his ‘easy’ life behind.

****************

“Where are we again?,” Elton asked, never even opening his eyes. Though a question, the monotone of his voice never changed. He was so fucking exhausted he did not think he could move. Night after night he took the stage in front of thousands, performed like a wild child, and slept or boozed or snorted away the rest of his day. Even John could barely reach him anymore. 

“Birmingham,” John murmured, applying concealer to Elton’s face to try to at least hide the bags under his eyes. He gave it up as a bad job after a few minutes. He sighed, sitting beside Elton on the small couch in the dressing room. “Same as we were last night, Elton.”

“Right,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you sure you are alright to go on, Elton?,” one of the many hangers-on that flitted from arena to arena with Elton asked, her voice dripping with concern.

“I feel unwell. I wish I could take the night off,” Elton whined, rubbing his temple. The headache that had been with him all day refusing to leave, even with multiple handfuls of drug. Though, perhaps it was the drug causing the headache in the first place. He moaned piteously as his brain tried so hard to make sense of thoughts, the agony almost too much for him to bear.

“If you had actually eaten something today you wouldn’t be feeling poorly,” John scolded lightly, gently caressing Elton’s warm cheek with the back of his hand. “You never listen. I don't know why anyone distresses for you... You will be going on. It is not your fans fault you can’t take care of yourself, Elton.” He turned to the girl who had spoken up. “And you, out and don’t come back. Better yet, all of you, out! Elton has no choice but to go on, and I will not have any of you filling his head with any nonsense contrary to that!”

“It’s not her fault, love,” Elton said, putting his hand on John’s chest. “She might have actually been concerned. I shouldn't've said anything. I know my duty. You’ve been banging on about it for years...”

John got to his feet, brushing the spot on his suit where Elton had touched with a sneer. “You have ten minutes until you are due on stage, Elton. Get over yourself and be ready to perform. I am done with your self-indulgent myopic little world. You have everything you could have ever dreamed of, and more, and you are still just a selfish prick.”

Elton sat long after John had left the room, his head tilted to the side, replaying what had just happened. He sat wondering what exactly he did wrong this time. John had left him, in word, numerous times over the course of their relationship, but usually there was a better reason than him feeling poorly.

He shrugged. He would never understand the other man. He stumbled to the small table, sifting out enough cocaine to be able to get through the next few hours. He felt like a walking corpse, and his fans deserved much more than that.

At least he remembered to ask where they were before John threw his latest tantrum.


	3. Chapter 3

Bernie did not remember ever feeling so detached from this ‘world’ when he followed Reg on his tours before. The drink and drug flowed so freely! He contemplated taking a hit himself when his own anxiety began to surface. He stopped himself, just barely, knowing he had to keep a clear head if he was to judge the situation correctly.

He stood in the crowded corridor, almost crammed against the wall, listening to snatches of conversation from the boatloads of people who made the performance possible. Reg had taken ill, he had heard. He had not eaten for at least a day. He had even wished to cancel the show. (And if that did not prove something was really wrong, Bernie didn’t know what would…) Reid was an arse, another had said, though much quieter than the others. He had said Reg had no choice but to perform. He would not disappoint his fans, end of story. He also heard something about him calling Reg a selfish prick and self-indulgent bastard before he had to stop listening. 

None of this talk was good for his blood pressure.

He found himself (not) hiding when Reg walked past him in a ghastly get-up that did nothing to hide his washed out features. The bright colors contrasted terribly with his almost grey skin. He was not yet ready for Reg to see him. 

_ And when did that happen? _ , he had to wonder, shaking his head at his own cowardice.  _ When did it become a fucking nightmare to even be SEEN by my best mate. _

He could not fathom why he thought this trip was such a brilliant idea once he came to realization just how far removed he was from this life, and just how rough Reg looked close up. He needed to get out of there, fast.

He made his way to the hotel room. Though he was not as ready to face the situation as he had thought he was when he had made his way to the arena, there was always tomorrow. He needed a stiff drink, a good sleep, and remained hopeful tomorrow would be better.

Sometimes hope is the only thing you have to cling to...

*********************

Elton walked down the crowded corridor with a slight skip to his step. The show was incredible! He was apprehensive after John’s dramatic exit that he would not be able to pull it off. That he would burst into tears at any moment, forget the words to the songs, or trip in the costume when he made his way around the stage.

The papers had been sniffing around his life so much lately that a horrid show could be his downfall. John knew that, the stupid wanker, and still chose to rile him up before shows. He found himself grinning stupidly, knowing full well he no doubt looked like a nutter, but found he could not care any less. He might even be able to skate by without the powder for an hour or two, he felt so grand.

He entered his dressing room, still skipping, until he saw John leaning against the small table, two flutes of champagne in his hands, and the smile reserved for when Elton fucked up. It was not what he expected when he entered the room to change. Elton’s grin dropped at the speed of his stomach. Something was amiss, and Elton knew he was going to suffer for it.

“You knocked it out of the park, darling,” John said, the godawful smile still on his face. He bounced away from the table, walking towards him slowly, deliberately, like one would when approaching a hunt-able animal. “I thought we could celebrate your achievement. After sending everyone away earlier, no one thought to come see you. Such a pity.”

Elton took the flute in his hand, leaning into John’s hand as it caressed his cheek. “How wonderful you are to me, love,” Elton murmured, knocking back his glass in one go. He had a feeling he was going to wish it something stronger incredibly soon...

“I am, aren’t I?,” John said, almost absentmindedly, his hand journeying to the back of Elton’s neck. He leaned down and captured Elton’s lips in a kiss that was more nips and bites than anything pleasurable. When he straightened up once again, his hand still around Elton’s neck in an almost painful grip, leaving Elton breathless and knobby kneed, he asked, “If I am so wonderful, why did you call Taupin?”

Elton shook his head in confusion, feeling his headache return. “I didn’t, John. I haven’t talked to Bernie since we received the last stack of writings months ago. You were right there when I spoke to him.”

“Isn’t it funny, then, that he is roaming the halls right now? Sniffing around for information on your health,” he said, squeezing just a little tighter. “Why would he come if you did not invite him yourself, Elton? He had said he needed a break from this life. I told you to keep clear of him and let the poor man breathe.”

“Surely I don’t know, John,” Elton snapped. “I did not invite him. And you’re hurting me.”

“Good, you need to hurt,” John hissed, directly into his ear. “You will tell him you are fine. You will send him on his way. You will find different lyricists to work with, Elton, or I will crush you. Understood?”

Elton nodded quickly, gasping for air when John finally let go of his neck. He had fallen in a heap to the floor when John’s grip ceased. He waited until John had stormed off to allow the tears fall from his eyes. The confusion from before reinstated itself, as he watched John slam the door behind him. He never allowed John to the upper hand for long, and he could not believe he allowed it this time. He put his forehead on the cool linoleum as he fought to regain control of his emotions. 

_ Oh, Bernie… You always choose the wrong time to fret over me, don’t you? _ , Elton thought, picking himself up off the floor. He stumbled to his rucksack and took out the dozens of bottles within. He needed to silence his racing thoughts. He needed to keep his wits about him. He needed solace from this absolutely horrid night.

He really needed Bernie… 

Bernie was the light to his darkness. Without him in his life, no matter how small the role he had been playing lately, he would have given in to his own despair long ago. He needed to find him, tell him how much he meant to him, but then beg him to leave him be. He made his choices, and his choices were going to bring down the only one in his life that fucking mattered to him if he was not careful...


	4. Chapter 4

_I must be channeling Reg,_ Bernie thought, glaring at the empty liquor bottle. He did not realize how much he had actually been drinking until he went to pour a shot and nothing came out. He rubbed his watery eyes with the back of his hand. It seemed no amount of drink or food could quell the emptiness inside of him tonight. He truly regretted leaving the venue without speaking with Reg. It was now coming on one in the morning, and he still had not even considered turning in. He could still see Reid’s furious scowl from across the corridor when he closed his eyes, and he had known that Reg would be the one to face that displeasure the moment he left. _Yet you left anyway..._ _You fucked up, Bernie Taupin._

A hesitant knock brought him out of his thoughts. He turned his glare to the door. He placed the empty bottle on the desk and stumbled to the door, gearing himself up to rant at the inconsiderate stranger who dared knock on his door after midnight. His mouth dropped when he saw Reg standing in the corridor, wringing his hands nervously. Bernie rubbed his eyes again, certain his imagination was taking over.

“Wotcha, mate… Did I-er… Did I wake you?”

Bernie shook his head, his mouth not wanting to cooperate. He gestured for Reg to come in as he gave in to the urge to pinch himself. He flinched.  _ He’s actually here… _ , Bernie thought, watching Reg toss the empty bottle in his hand.  _ And he’s smirking at me. Just like old times... _

“Had a party without me?”

“Pity party, more like,” Bernie murmured, leaning against the door. “I lost track how much I actually drank until I went to pour and nothing came out.”

Reg laughed, setting the bottle back down gently. “Been there… Though I usually break the bottle. You’ve always had more self-control than I ever will, Bern.”

“I know…,” Bernie said, sliding down the door to sit on the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest, suddenly feeling quite nauseous. “How did you find me?”

Reg smiled fondly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Well, John gave me your room number. He has a lot of contacts. I should probably be worried at all the seemingly useless information he acquires, but…” He shrugged. “Made tonight easier, at least… Anyways, he sent me to tell you I’m fine, not to worry, and head on back home as soon as possible.”

“Are you?,” Bernie asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Am I what?”

“Fine?”

“Of course… Never better…”

“I might be completely tanked, Reg, but even I can see that’s a lie.”

Reg shrugged. “Believe what you will, I suppose. It’s just… better if you at least pretend to believe me and accept the ticket I bought for you. Things are shite. You don’t need to be around for this, mate. It’s better for you to head on out and pretend you’ve never heard of me.”

Bernie shook his head. “You know I can’t do that, Reg. You are a walking skeleton. You have bruises set upon bruises. And I know there’s more that I can’t see.” He forced his body to stand. “You deserve so much more than you have, Reg. No matter what you actually think.”

Reg got to his feet, shaking his head madly, walking towards the door. “No, no, no, Bernie... You have it wrong. He said you would do this. He said you would tell me lies, try to force me to believe I am better than I am. But I’m not, Bernie. I am wretched man. I have done wretched things that would make you unable to sleep at night if you knew any of them. You are so  _ good. _ So lovely. I will not bring you into my madness, Bernie. You need to leave. Go back to your girlfriend. Have the life I can’t, Bernie. Please? I set the ticket by the bottle.” And he slammed the door.

Bernie should have followed. He could not get his unstable limbs to cooperate. Instead he watched him leave, tears falling from his eyes. He collapsed on the bed. “You know I can’t do that, Reg,” he whispered. “I can’t leave you to the darkness. Not again...”

*********************

Elton sat by the window, listening to John’s soft snores. He twirled the bottle of gin in his hands, watching the liquid swirl inside. The sun would be rising soon, and Elton never made it to bed. He had done everything John had told him, yet the screaming went on for hours. He banged his head on the sill. Elton still could not figure out why he kept him around… their sex life wasn’t even good enough to make up for his overbearing ways.

He gulped straight from the bottle, the satisfying burn of his throat bringing some much needed relief. The tears had dried and the pills had worked their magic on his pain hours ago.  _ John was relentless tonight, _ Elton thought. Elton had found himself unable to defend himself, the emotion turmoil from seeing Bernie almost too much for him to withstand. He was thankful when John finally decided it wasn’t as fun without Elton fighting back and finally went to bed.

_ We fucking deserve each other, _ Elton thought, caressing John’s own yellowing bruises. He climbed into bed himself, cuddling into John’s chest. He smiled to himself when even in sleep John wrapped his arms around him tightly. He could almost pretend he was cherished in his strong hold.  _ But Bernie will always hold my soul. _


	5. Chapter 5

When Bernie woke he remembered why he stuck to American beer. He pulled the blanket over his head, unable to face the sun that shone far too bright through the window.  _ Moderation, you duffer… What happened to fucking moderation?, _ he scolded himself, trying to make sense of the bits and pieces of the night that were floating in his mind.

He shot out of bed.  _ Had Reg actually been here?,  _ he thought, stumbling to the table. Beside the empty bottle lay a plane ticket.  _ The plane ticket Reg had bought for me, because he was just fine and there was no need to worry and something about him being wicked... _ He ran his fingers through his knotted hair.  _ Bottom line: he was here and I let him go, again. _ _ What the fuck, Bernie… _

He looked at the bedside clock. He still had plenty of time to deal with his massive hangover and make it to the arena. He could only hope he was still on the list. This time, he would not chicken out. He would say his peace. He would drag Reg home with him and nurse him back to perfect health because that’s what best mates do.

_ But first… A little more sleep never hurt anyone, _ he thought, hiding his face with the pillow.  _ I’m never fucking drinking again… _

**********************

_ Alone _ , Elton thought, patting the other side of the bed before even opening his eyes. He knew he should no longer be shocked. John had always been an early riser. Elton never understood the benefit of waking up with the sun. Waking up that early left too much time trapped in his mind, no matter how many substances he dropped into his body.

He felt dead inside. Even just the few moments he spent with Bernie made him feel more alive than he had in months. The loneliness was becoming almost overwhelming. He was usually surrounded by hordes of people, all wanting a piece of the famous Elton John. Even John could be counted as one of those lately. The love they shared had died long ago, even if they refused to acknowledge it to themselves.

He stumbled to the bathroom. He leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection. He conceded a point to Bernie, he did look rough... The circles around his eyes were darker from the little sleep he had gotten during this leg of the tour. He had lost quite a bit of weight. He knew that from the way the costumes were fitting as of late. He ran his fingers down his ribcage, trying to remember if being able to see the bones protruding was healthy. The bruises were harder to ignore than the bones. His body seemed to be one large mass of bruises and self-inflicted cuts. He knew that THAT was not healthy, no matter how hard he tried to spin it otherwise.

He swallowed a handful of pills with a long pull from his nearly empty bottle of gin.  _ If this is success, Elton, if this is truly pleasure, was it truly worth it?, _ he wondered, making his way unsteadily to the bed. He pulled the blankets over his head. He knew he had hours yet until he had to be alert. John would rouse him when it was time. He only came around when he was needed, really.  _ And with such a meager existence, I’m truly ready to die _ .


End file.
